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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28088466">Sowing the Seeds of Love in Frozen Soil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostaren/pseuds/nostaren'>nostaren</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Attempt at Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Error 404: Sarcasm module not found, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulation, Miscommunication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:46:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28088466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostaren/pseuds/nostaren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How were you supposed to have known that the emotionally constipated assassin known as Illumi Zoldyck had donned the appearance of Hisoka?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Illumi Zoldyck/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pinky × Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my very first time venturing into the big, scary world that is writing fiction.<br/>All feedback is much appreciated (:</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hisoka was acting weird.</p><p>Not weird as in the sense of going off on children and adults alike when they showed incredible potential (nothing out of the ordinary there for him) <strike>and yeah, you <em>had</em> noticed that, as inconspicuous as he thought he was</strike>—no, weird as in deviating from his normal self.</p><p>Hisoka was acting weird, and it was <em>disgusting</em>.</p><p>His usual flamboyance was replaced by a twitching entity, which you were certain was not Hisoka, only it <em>was</em> Hisoka, and thus you found yourself stupefied.</p><p>Jaw open, you stared at him.</p><p>Unblinking, he stared back.</p><p>Scarcely did you know how to handle yourself when you were on your period – you had to restrain yourself from stabbing someone, then you were crying because you stabbed someone, and then you were attempting to regulate the monstrosity that was your appetite so that you refrained from eating a whole bakery. Now you had to take Hisoka’s PMSing into account as well.</p><p>For what were you, if not a reliable, a very caring, partner in crime?</p><p>“Hisoka…are you alright?”</p><p>His eyes crinkled when his lips shot up in a smile, yet it still didn’t quite reach his eyes. The smile was insincere, which in and of itself wasn’t unusual for the man, but it lacked its distinct smugness. “Yes. Of course.”</p><p>“Right…” Unconvinced, you sat down a small distance away from him, determined to find out what caused his bizarre behavior. If he wouldn’t provide you an answer directly, you would pry it out of him, bit by bit.</p><p>He was fine mere moments ago, so what had changed? The shift had been so abrupt that you almost thought he had been subjected to a stroke.</p><p>You made a show of stretching your legs over his, which were perched flat and straight against the ground, his back resting on a stray block of stone. Now forming a crisscross-pattern with his and your legs, you leaned back against your palms and formulated your first question, “Sooo anything new happen in life?” <em>Ew, </em>had you really just said that? You should skip out on small talk from now on. A more eccentric approach would probably suit the situation better.</p><p>“Not really.” You deducted that he, too, shouldn’t utter sentences falling under the category ‘idle talk’—not now, not ever. The two of you really made a pitiful pair.</p><p>A pair that by all means should go all out in matching from the inside out.</p><p>“Say, Hisoka, when are you going to reveal to me the secrets of your immaculate sense of fashion?”</p><p>There was a totally valid reason for the abrupt change of subject. For one, if you were working together, it would be <strike>cute</strike> ideal to strive for becoming a characteristic duo — striking fear in enemies and allies alike with your twins-but-not-twins look going on. You also figured that ticking him off babbling and asking stupid questions would be a surefire way of making him spill, if only to get you to scutter off and leave him to his <strike>lustfilled</strike> thoughts. It was by no means a failproof plan, but it had worked in the past.</p><p>He seemed to be mulling over your question — at least you thought so. It was difficult to pinpoint his exact thoughts as he was also intently staring at your limbs draped over his own.</p><p>How odd. Hisoka usually had no qualms against bodily contact. In fact, he was usually the one to initiate it. It was a bit of a gamble for you to do the same though as he would sometimes welcome your bodily contact and other times he would throw a hissy-fit over being touched ‘inappropriately.’ <strike>Ha, as if you would willingly touch him in <em>that</em> way. In his dreams.</strike> He really was akin to a cat; smug, overly pretentious, only abiding by his own desires, <strike>pretty</strike>, deep down a softie (although you wouldn’t go so far as to say the last ones out loud — that pompous bastard would eat it up for <em>days</em> even if you by any off-chance had meant for them to be insults (which they weren't, but his ego was boosted enough as is)).</p><p>“Come ooon, tell a friend,” you teased, “or I’ll have you sniff my stinky feet.” On cue, you wiggled a shoe-clad foot in front of his face.</p><p>Were you friends? You’d like to think so. How the two of you came to <strike>tolerate each other's presence</strike> be friends was one of those stories told to be either very simple or very complicated, depending on who you ask. For Hisoka, it was a simple and dismissive tale: “we are part of the same organization.” For you, it happened through a series of complex interactions and some pushing of buttons from both ends: “ultimately, he is my platonic soulmate.” For the rest of the troupe, it was a mix of both.</p><p>Friends or not, you couldn’t deny that you knew barely anything concerning the man’s past. He was an enigma to say the least. A mystery you wanted to solve. <strike>More specifically to uncover the childhood trauma that led to him being dressed like the clown from IT on a tight budget.</strike></p><p>A hand enclosing your hovering ankle brought you out of your inner monologue. He led your foot closer to his face, taking a whiff. “There is no distinguishable smell to your foot. You smell only of the dirt you’ve stepped on.”</p><p>A pause. Then—you guffawed. <em>There he is.</em> His ridiculous innuendos never failed to amuse you. “Oh my god you nasty pervert, this has got to be a new all-time-low for you.” You attempted to give him a kick to the face as emphasis, but he held a firm grip on your ankle.</p><p>He tilted his head to the side but chose to ignore your quip altogether, instead answering the previous question you had asked. “My clothes come from the wardrobe.” <em>Yeah, no shit.</em> You gave him an unamused look. He tried again, “The butlers prepare clothing for me.”</p><p>“Pfft. You do not <em>have </em>butlers.” There was no way. That freelancer may have money, but he did not have a sophisticated lifestyle.</p><p>He spent a solid five seconds mulling over your response, and likely his own as well. “My mother picks them for me.”</p><p>The image of Hisoka having a mother, let alone a family somehow unsettled you. One Morow was plenty enough. Unsure if he was even speaking the truth now or just trying to give you an answer you would settle on, you decided to let it go. “…Okayy…yeah, no, I won’t pry about that. Anyway, we should go shopping sometime. And would you let go of my foot already?” He did as you asked and you then raised your pinky finger. He kept his eyes on the digit, silent. Naturally, you held eye contact. “Well?”</p><p>“Well, what?”</p><p>“<em>Well</em>, I’m not about to have our inevitable shopping trip be an empty discussion. You <em>are</em> going to show me where you get that waist cincher.” You pointedly glanced down at the almost neon green waist binders or whatever the hell those were. He was the definition of waist? Snatched. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least <strike>completely and utterly</strike> a little bit jealous.</p><p>But then again, maybe you’d gotten it all wrong. Maybe his abdomen simply had the properties of both rubber and gum which made it unachievable for you.</p><p>Nevertheless, you expected him to roll his eyes or snort at your <strike>order</strike> suggestion, <em>to give you even the smallest of reactions.</em> But alas, nothing.</p><p>Realization made you drop your offered digit. “You, uhh, <em>do</em> know what a pinky promise is, right?” His head was still perched at a 45-degree angle.</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck.</em>
</p><p>Now that was just sad. What kind of childhood had he had, to remain ignorant to the intricacies of a pinky promise? You weren't exactly known for your merciful nature, but you'd make an exception for your clown.</p><p>“Here.” You reached out, grabbing the hand closest to you and unfolding his pinky finger. Hooking it to your own, you stared him dead in the eye. "This is the most sacred of vows. The most holy of promises, stronger than that of a bloodoath. Break it, and you break the code. <em>Our</em> code. We're now bound by fate to fulfill this promise—you being my personal shopper, that is."</p><p>"I see." Faint interest shone in his eyes, focusing on your intertwined pinkies. You couldn't blame him. The pink promise truly was eye-opening. "No blood or conditions are needed to be met?"</p><p>"Nope, no blo—wait <em>what</em>? <em>No!</em>" You jerked your pinky away from him, almost aggressively. "This is a holy ritual, meaning you don't need to—mustn’t—taint your," gesturing at his hands, "claws, for it to take root. Must you always defile the innocence of things? No sacrificial lambs for this one, you blood-crazed clown."</p><p>There really was no way for him to just let go of his bloodlust, was there? Not even for a moment. And here you thought the two of you were bonding.</p><p>“What are the consequences of breaking…this finger vow,” he nodded to where your pinkies were connected.</p><p>“Breaking a pinky promise is the most terrible of crimes.” You leaned closer for dramatic effect. “See, you’d be branded a <em>liar</em>,” you whispered conspiratorially. “It’ll be a title you bear for the rest of your life.” You pondered on it, then added, “And probably in the afterlife too, if you believe in that kind of stuff.”</p><p>You could practically see what little interest he’d had seep out of him, leaving an empty shell in its wake and leaving you bemused once more by his uncharacteristic behavior.</p><p>Right.</p><p>You reminded yourself of the reason you'd sought him out in the first place.</p><p>Hisoka was acting weird and you wanted to know what the source to it was.</p><p>After those kids had left with Pakunoda, Hisoka seemed to be feeling the effects of withdrawal or something along those lines. </p><p>He'd responded to your quips just fine, but he was still twitchy. His head jerked continuously and…popped? There were definitely sounds coming from his person. Still, you didn’t mention it. Just kept your gaze on him until it became a contest, waiting on who would make the next move.</p><p>So, you stared.</p><p>And stared.</p><p>And—</p><p>You blinked, groaned, and fell back starfishing the ground. Talk about impatience.</p><p>Infuriating, that one. Hisoka sure knew how to get on people’s nerves. <em>And he hadn’t even really done anything.</em></p><p>Why did it tick you off so much when he otherwise caused you to lose braincells prematurely on a daily basis?</p><p>You simply needed to keep acting in a manner that would annoy him into confessing. It was a simple strategy but a tough execution. <strike>Not that you needed to put any effort into it since you were, admittedly, an annoyance 24/7. At this point, you were almost certain it was yet another special ability of yours.</strike> But you were just starting to doubt it would work on this new Hisoka. You didn’t like the new Hisoka. You hoped he wasn’t permanently damaged. He normally loved the sound of his own voice, and now that your day lacked its usual dose of it you figured you’d give him a piece of yours to fill the void you were currently experiencing.</p><p>One could say you thrived off of aggravating one another, and they’d be right. But it wasn’t out of spite, at least not on your part. Time spent in the chapel could grow awfully boring as some of the Phantom Troupe members weren’t really the brightest of the bunch, to say the least.</p><p>"Hisoka, are you going to do something about your hair?" Pointing out something about his appearance was no sore spot for him per se, but it never failed to irritate him when you kept pestering him about it. “Your ‘business in the front, party in the back’ isn’t doing you any favors. Maybe your advances on Machi would work if only you took my advice to heart.”</p><p>Now, you expected him to console you like he always did when mentioning one of his many objects of affections, telling you that you’re the only woman in his life. Platonically, of course. <strike>You were pretty sure any ‘romance’ with him only ended in blood.</strike> Still, he said nothing, only aggravating you further. It was starting to dawn on you that your pathetic excuse of a plan was backfiring.</p><p>"Hmm…I think you'd look great if you let your hair grow, like—what’s his name? Illuman? Or maybe you could grow it just to cut and sell it. Your hair has such an unusual color; I’m sure it could fetch a high price at the market.” By now his head was pointed to the entrance, probably imagining scenarios in which he would escape your rambling. You kept going. “Oh, but maybe you want to keep your hair gelled back? It is your signature look after all.”</p><p>You briefly wondered if his hair really was kept up with gel or if it was with the help of Bungee Gum. Maybe his facial tattoos were a product of Texture Surprise too?</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m sure you can keep it up even if it gets long. It’ll look weird, but that wouldn’t be a new concept for you. Ha-ha.”</p><p>His mouth finally opened to provide you a much-needed response, but instead you got an inaudible buzzing that went off like an annoyed rattlesnake. It took you a moment to realize that <em>no, </em>it wasn’t coming from his mouth. He picked up the vibrating phone from his pocket and read something off the screen. He threw you a quick glance, only to proceed hoisting himself up off the ground. You contemplated straining your thigh muscles to keep him sitting but knew it would be futile. The man both outweighed and outstrengthed you. Before he could meander off somewhere though, you sprung up as well and grabbed him firmly by the arm.</p><p>“Okay seriously, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” Your position behind him didn’t do you any favors in preventing you from laying witness to what happened next. As clear as day, you saw how his head inclined downwards at his crotch. You wanted to unsee it and you also wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “This is exactly what I’m talking about…<em>It’s an expression. </em>I <em>know </em>you know of it.”</p><p>His passivity, now laced with genuine confusion – so unlike his usual behaviour – combined with blatant disregard to your very one-sided conversation, made you think along new lines.</p><p>Perhaps there was nothing wrong with him. Perhaps <em>you </em>were the problem.</p><p>Had you come off too strong?</p><p>He glanced down at your hand enclosing his forearm before straining a smile. You let go of it, as if burned by his gaze. “I have business to attend elsewhere.”</p><p>You didn’t press the matter, <strike>butthurt</strike> a bit let down by your revelation if it proved to be true.</p><p>The rest of the troupe didn’t agree with your sentiment though. Namely, Shalnark was calling after him in a questioningly manner. “Hey, hey, Chrollo is still being held hostage!” to which Hisoka raised a hand over his retreating back.</p><p>“Oh, that. It has been dealt with,” he asserted in his leisure walk towards the exit. “Bye now.”</p><p>This sparked some internal arguing between the other members, but by the time they turned back to demand more answers out of Hisoka, he was already gone. Huh. You hadn’t noticed him disappearing so abruptly and by the looks of it, no other member had either.</p><p>Had he received details concerning the state of leader in that text message? Most likely. From whom? That remained a mystery.</p><p>So, yeah, Kurapika had threatened you all to stay put, but Hisoka needing someone’s permission to go—or not go—somewhere? No way. The man only acted to fulfill his own selfish agendas. To tell the truth, you were surprised he had stayed for as long as he had.</p><p>His mind had been set on leaving the premise, and that you could accept. There was no point in dispute now that he was gone.</p><p>What made you want to pull your hair out of its roots was the fact that he had left you with more questions unanswered than you’d started out with.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Unexpected × Company</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Are we really going to be doing actual shopping?”</p><p>“It was our agreement.”</p><p>“…yeah.” Your agreement with <em>Hisoka. </em></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah, uhh, updates are quite slow due to uni xd<br/>Me getting writer's block every 5 minutes also doesn't help T^T</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Watering can in hand, you gave the one living organism residing in your home apart from yourself some much needed life juice.</p><p>Arnold 3.0 was no pet in the traditional sense, but when you lived a life as integrated with one of the most renowned criminal organizations as you did, you had to make do.</p><p>The little bamboo plant was an experiment of yours so that you could make a rational decision of whether or not you could handle an actual animal.</p><p>So far, the results weren’t particularly promising.</p><p>The first subject, Arnold 1.0, was no longer with you after a mishap whereas you had <strike>forgotten him</strike> been busy for a very long time. As for Arnold 2.0…you didn’t talk about that incident.</p><p>It had been a few weeks since your last contact with the Phantom Troupe. Life had been so mundane on your own that you almost regretted not going with the others on that excursion to Greed Island. But your reasoning for not going was a valid one; you had stayed behind because you were still a bit pissy at Hisoka for having just up and left. When he had exited the church following his strange behavior, he had left the Phantom Troupe altogether. It wasn’t like they needed you anyway in that little game of theirs. They were more than capable of finding a nen exorcist on their own.</p><p>What had hurt you wasn’t the fact that Hisoka had left, but rather that he afterwards didn’t so much as utter a word to you and your texts didn’t seem to come through, whether from a block or a change of phones you didn’t know. What you <em>did</em> know however, was that if he truly wanted your companionship, he would find a way to contact you because as much of a loner as he was, the man had a strange way of making things happen.</p><p>There was another person associated with number 4 now. He had been replaced by a child you hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting. Which was fine, of course. Necessary. But who would you now take with you to inflict terror on innocent pedestrians?</p><p>Well, at least Hisoka hadn’t sullied his own body with a tattoo to be in a gang. Be like Hisoka.</p><p>Your own tattoo stood out like a sore thumb if you weren’t mindful of what you wore, which was especially difficult during the summer months when the sun felt scorching enough to expose the rather small ink spider perched on your collarbone. You hadn’t picked a very favorable location, back then thinking only of the aesthetics and not putting nearly enough thought into what was convenient. Had you gotten the choice now, it would probably go on your butt. A butt tattoo wouldn’t cause confrontations whenever you chose to wear sleeves that didn’t go past your shoulder. Actually, it wouldn’t limit your wardrobe <em>at all </em>…except for maybe your choice of panties, which no one but you saw anyway.</p><p>It was spring now, meaning all senses went into overdrive; the tree buds preparing for growth and filling your vision with green; pollen filling the air and some chosen individuals’ nasal cavity with snot; birds blessing you with their song outside your bedroom window in the early hours when you wanted nothing more than to sleep. Spring also meant you could safely wear concealing tops without sweating buckets. Really, the chain bastard couldn’t have waited at least until June to capture Chrollo’s heart? At least then you could stay at home in good consciousness in only underwear and AC on full blast without worrying about your tattoo coupled with being hot. Come summer, the Greed Island expedition would surely have come to an end already and throw you into the same annoying predicament you had every year.</p><p>The life you currently led was truly…<em>peculiar</em>, what with Chrollo being out of commission and insistent on heading East. What did your role as a member of the Phantom Troupe entail now? Good question. No tasks came your way and no one would tell you anything. Great!</p><p>It might have been petty of you to decline the offer and then complain over having nothing to do, but that was a trait you could live with.</p><p>Your phone buzzed.</p><p>
  <em>18:20. Dick Sakura.</em>
</p><p>The text message glared back at you.</p><p>A time and place from sender ‘unknown.’</p><p>Was it…? Yeah, it was probably Feitan. He had a penchant for keeping things short <strike>himself included</strike>. Except when it came to torture. Then it was all about drawing things out. Less talking, more stalking with that one.</p><p>You failed to suppress a cackle while typing a reply.</p><p>
  <em>It’s a date</em>
</p><p>If the opportunity of flustering your dear coworkers presented itself, you would take it. It made your day and what else was there to do when you were basically wasting away in your apartment?</p><p>With just about two hours to spare, you took it upon yourself to strip out of your pajamas, take a shower, pick clothing and coif your hair into a look you hoped screamed ‘I am ready for work!’</p><p>A trek of twenty minutes took you to the front of the store, Dick Sakura. A peculiar choice of words for a store that wasn’t a sex shop, but maybe it was made with marketing purposes in mind. It was difficult to forget a name like that.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>You turned around, only to come face-to-face with a person you hadn’t expected <em>at all. </em>This man needed no introduction, for you had met once prior. The notorious assassin you knew to be Illumi Zoldyck stood before you.</p><p>“Did someone put a bounty on my head?” you immediately blurted out. A second later you wanted to clap your hands over your mouth. Getting a straight-forward answer might be good, yeah, but what wasn’t so good was your habit of speaking before putting any thought into it.</p><p>“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”</p><p>Why? Maybe because the only plausible scenario you could see of him paying you a visit being from a murder contract.</p><p>If that wasn’t the case, then what was the reason for his stopping by and talking to you? You didn’t know what to make of his answer.</p><p>The assassin beckoned you to follow him. “Come with me.” He took a step towards the store, only to halt at your next words.</p><p>“I’m actually, uh, waiting for someone,” you said unsurely, not able to discern the situation. He had just waltzed into your personal bubble and interacted as if you were on familiar terms. Did he really think you would follow him, when he might lead you to an impending doom?</p><p>“Oh. Okay.”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>He proceeded to wait with you.</p><p>It made you uneasy. Uneasy and confused.</p><p>You stood side by side, projecting two contrasting images within the span of a meter. He, who stared straight ahead and stood just as motionless as the mannequin in the window behind him, and you, who fidgeted and kept sneaking glances his way.</p><p>Neither of you said a word as the minutes ticked by.</p><p>You checked the time. 18:27. They were late. They were late and you didn’t know how much longer you could pretend like nothing was happening. Sure, you could hold your own against most—you weren’t part of the Phantom Troupe for nothing. Hell, with your nen ability you could revert almost any damage done to your person.</p><p>But Illumi was a Zoldyck. He was part of the family forming the deadliest assassins in the world, the very same ones that killed former #8.</p><p>The only reason you could even attach a face to his name was through a brief chance encounter when you were partnered up with Hisoka. You hadn’t been scared then because you hadn’t been alone. If shit hit the fan so to speak, you had Hisoka to serve as a flesh shield. Now the only proverbial shield you had was that of your charming personality.</p><p>Which, by the way, wasn’t so charming.</p><p>“Mister Zoldyck, sir…” you cleared your throat. “I have to ask…why are you here again?”</p><p>“I am here to fulfill the promise I gave you.”</p><p>Ah, yes, the promise you knew nothing about.</p><p>Had you been so immersed in internally fawning over the silky smooth hair cascading down his back the first time you met that you had filtered out something he said?</p><p>Your voice grew quieter, “…what promise, exactly?”</p><p>He gave you an odd look, staring at you as if <em>you </em>were in the wrong for not knowing what his end-game was. “You wanted me to be your ‘personal shopper’ if I recall correctly.”</p><p>You drew up a blank.</p><p>Then, he held up his pinky finger and it all clicked.</p><p>“You mean to tell me that was <em>you</em>?”</p><p>
  <em>You mean to tell me I cooped up next to an assassin!?</em>
</p><p>He nodded. “Hisoka needed my help in order to leave the hideout unnoticed.” That confirmed it.</p><p>All of a sudden you couldn’t discern what had been said those weeks prior and what was your paranoia. Had you insulted him? You vaguely recalled bringing him up, but couldn’t for the life of you remember if it had been in a positive or negative light.</p><p>Was he here to buy you clothes to wear for your funeral? Not fair—</p><p>How were you supposed to have known that the emotionally constipated assassin known as Illumi Zoldyck had donned the appearance of Hisoka?</p><p>Oh, how you wished to be blissfully ignorant once more.</p><p>“You know you could have just ignored it, right?” You kind of wished he had. You felt threatened in his presence even when he didn’t seem to have any malicious intent. Now you were stuck spending your <strike>not so</strike> precious time with a person whose name alone struck fear in pedestrians and nen users alike.</p><p>“I thought about it. Many times, with different viewpoints, and kept coming to the same conclusion. An assassin synonymous with the word ‘liar’ makes no assassin. No contracts would come my way if I didn’t fulfill them."</p><p>A pinky swear was in no shape or form on the same wavelength as a murder contract. Breaking a pinky promise you didn’t even know he had agreed upon wouldn’t ruin his reputation, you were pretty certain. Though, you had to admit it was quite noble of him to take your exaggerated explanation to heart.</p><p>And so, you didn’t mention how insignificant it truthfully was. His thought process differed greatly from yours, and you <em>had</em> put the silly gesture on a pedestal. It wouldn’t do to take back your word as soon as someone took you seriously or a little danger presented itself.</p><p>With the new revelation having come to light, it was safe to conclude that the text had been from him, too. You just didn’t understand why or how he could assume that you knew of everything he was talking about. To even comprehend the context behind some of his words required you to read between the lines or attain information that wasn’t readily available unless you were a mind reader.</p><p>“I don’t think they’re coming.” It somehow felt rude to admit that not only had you not <strike>known</strike> recalled the promise, but also him being the person you waited for. “Are we really going to be doing actual shopping?”</p><p>“It was our agreement.”</p><p>“…yeah.” Your agreement with <em>Hisoka. </em>“Let’s get this over with.” You turned and walked through the doors to Dick Sakura with him in tow.</p><p>“Welcome!” the clerk by the entrance greeted. You muttered a ‘thanks’ whereas Illumi said nothing on your tail. As you ventured deeper into the store it took no time at all to realize that the roles of personal shopper would need to be reversed in order for this to work.</p><p>This was all foreign territory to him; he was absolutely clueless. About everything. He stood amidst rows of clothing racks and bobbed his head around like a pop figure in search of what you had asked for.</p><p>“Do you even know what to look for? Maybe we should ask the staff.”</p><p>He picked up a pair of tights and held them to his waist, comparing the two materials. “There is no need for assistance. I asked Gotoh where to purchase waist trainers.”</p><p>You had no idea who Gotoh was, but he apparently hadn’t found it important enough to educate Illumi of the fact that not every long piece of fabric served the same purpose. “I don’t think that’s a waist trainer.” You <em>knew </em>that was no waist trainer.</p><p>“Really? Hmm.” He put the tights back to their designated spot and made his way to another isle.</p><p>When you tried to steer him in another direction, pointing out that maybe, just maybe what you were looking for wasn’t among the children’s clothes, he would have none of it. ‘Gotoh this and Gotoh that’ would be his response. Soon you found yourself wanting to strangle Gotoh and you hadn’t even met the man.</p><p>Out of curiosity, you picked up a fuzzy hoodie barely the size of your forearm’s length with ears adorning the hood and checked the price tag. The numbers were so outrageous that you considered leaving. So much for gifting Feitan clothes much too small just to spite him. Maybe Illumi had someone close to him befitting the size.</p><p>“Illumi,” you called to get his attention from his current task of almost tearing a dress apart to check its elasticity. “Do you have any younger siblings?”</p><p>“Why do you ask?”</p><p>“There are some really cute clothes here.” You held up the hoodie to showcase as an example. “And they’re good quality, too. Wouldn’t it be nice to give something away? You know, while we’re here anyway.” You doubted very much that he couldn’t afford it, unlike you, so you couldn’t see why not.</p><p>“What an odd request. Yes, I do have younger brothers, one of which are a Spider, but I do not see why you suggest I give them clothes. There are plenty to pick from at home.”</p><p>Was he unaccustomed to the prospect of ‘gifting’ or did they have just enough clothing at home that it was considered an unnecessary purchase? It was hard to tell.</p><p>“I guess…just to show your appreciation of them. Or, so that they can appreciate your gesture.” Brotherly love and all that. Not that you would really know, with your own family and most memories of them gone. At this point, you were just envisioning, or perhaps projecting, the things you would like to do with a little sister or brother, had you had one of your own.</p><p>“Relying on appreciative gestures to serve as a catalyst for the strengthening of bonds implies that the fundamental value put into the family name is weak. A strong connection with those I share blood with is already a given.”</p><p>Uh oh. Looks like you were being called into HR. “So, no gifts?”</p><p>He remained silent. You took that as a no.</p><p>“Wait…hold up…you said one of your brothers is a Spider!?” How did that part just flow over your head? Was it the newcomer or someone having withheld their identity all this time? No, it couldn’t possibly be someone from Meteor City. So that left…</p><p>“I wasn’t aware of how the Phantom Troupe lack in proficient communication.” He seemed a little surprised by this revelation, but what did he know? Now he was just assuming things on his own. You refused to admit that, yes, you had not heard hide nor hair of any updates for weeks. The Phantom Troupe had neglected you for <em>weeks</em>, but somehow admitting that felt like insulting your legacy. Not that you had one, but you know, you liked to dream. “Word certainly doesn’t spread fast, does it. My brother Kalluto is Hisoka’s replacement.”</p><p>You ignored the backhanded insult, what with his own brother now a part of said organization. “So, no gifts from <em>you…</em> But <em>I</em> can give little baby Kallu-chan a welcome gift, right?”</p><p>“Do as you wish.”</p><p>You truly wanted to. Or rather, you wanted Illumi to do so, because he had access to money. Maybe he’d pay for you if you asked nicely and batted your lashes enough? <strike>Who were you kidding? Even you would recoil in disgust if you did that to your own reflection.</strike></p><p>You hadn’t met the entire Zoldyck family, and yet from just a few sentences exchanged with the eldest son it was blatantly obvious how bizarre of a relation the members had with one another (at least from Illumi’s side of things). And, as a lover of children (not per Hisoka’s definition) that were beyond their potty-training stages and an incredibly important asset to society, you took it upon yourself save this child from neglect. This newly-found quest of yours most definitely had nothing to do with the boredom you were subjected to. Nope. Nothing at all.</p><p>“This is too small, isn’t it,” you half-asked out loud, but left no room for response. You doubted that a person with the body of a 5-month-old had the capability of applying to join your group of misfits, and so, you quickly scurried off deeper into the children’s section, finding clothing ranging from fabric with overly-cute designs to costumes resembling different action figures.  </p><p>Illumi didn’t actively help you pick anything, at least not at first. You got the feeling that he wanted to wrap up already, but as long as he didn’t say no outright, you would continue acting on your own agendas. The poor baby just wanted to complete the objective you had originally come for, but he quickly caught on to your steadfast resolve from the way you ran back and forth with different kinds and sizes of clothing and demanded he tell you if those were Kalluto’s style, if they were too big, too small, and then went back to exchange the current batch of apparel for another more matching of his depiction.</p><p>In the end you settled for a white and black gradient kimono with small, outlined koi fish and a floral motif in dark magenta on the sleeves and towards the bottom. The sash was a matching color that would go very well with his eyes, you were told after some prodding. Overall, the material was so soft and pretty that you didn’t want to let it go, but as you stroked the fabric, it just felt right to give it away. As much as you tried <strike>and failed</strike> to convince yourself that you didn’t <em>do</em> sentimental, this was something you didn’t even know you missed doing. Spending time and effort into choosing something to get a positive reaction back instilled an admittedly nice feeling in you.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>As you steadily advanced the store, you got the sense that something felt so very <em>off</em>. It was something you couldn’t decipher nor put into words, but it had to do with Illumi. His tone of voice, the bottomless void that was his eyes…he felt fake. Fake but genuine, like he was an authentic forgery. It hurt to think about, as thinking about it provided you no answers. It didn’t matter either way, seeing as you wouldn’t cross paths once his ‘promise’ had been fulfilled.</p><p>When a staff member eventually approached you, wearily eyeing how Illumi fitted the fabric of a scarf around your waist and almost squeezing the breath out of you, you were quick to thank the heavens for her interjection.</p><p>“Do the two of you need any help?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>You ignored his voiced objection.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” you repeated. “We’re looking for the thing he has around his waist.” You pointed to the body part in question. “I want his vixen-like waist to hip ratio.”</p><p>The young and pretty girl chuckled politely. “It’s no wonder you haven’t found one yet.” You got the feeling that she had seen you both strut around like chickens in search of food, with the occasional <strike>clucking</strike> bickering on your part. Her eyes lingered on Illumi’s figure for a bit longer than was considered socially acceptable and very gingerly fluttered her lashes at him. “The waist trainers are at the sports section. Second floor to the left. Would you like me to accompany you there?”</p><p>“We’ll find our way.” Her expression dimmed with disappointment. “Thank you for your help,” you dismissed her with a small nod of the head which she reciprocated before making her way to other customers with puzzled facial expressions, shooting some not-so-subtle glances back. As much fun as seeing her attempt to flirt with the impassive man would be, you’d much rather finish up quickly so you could go on your merry way home.</p><p>You turned to Illumi. “Do you believe me now, pretty boy?” you teased. You resisted the urge to say <em>I told you so </em>and started unwrapping yourself from the poorly made makeshift contraption of breath impediment. “This is a scarf,” you stood on your tiptoes to reach up, wounding the scarf around his neck. “You know, the fuzzy garment that grandmas knit for you to keep warm.”</p><p>You took a step back and almost burst into laughter, for before you stood the deadly assassin reduced to a clumsy mess of fabric. Your wrapping technique had proven to be a bit lackluster as half his face was concealed, making it look like he was burrowing into it.</p><p>“Someone’s grandmother knitted this?”</p><p>Not what you meant. “I doubt it. Nowadays almost everything is machine made.”</p><p>He didn’t speak for a moment. Then, “You think I’m pretty?”</p><p>Uhh.</p><p>He just had to go and point that out, didn’t he? You were just teasing him, but now he was putting you on the spot and it felt embarrassing to genuinely admit that he was pleasant to look at. You’d think that someone as breathtakingly beautiful as him would understand his own degree of attractiveness, but seeing as he had remained oblivious to the attendant’s subtle flirting, you guessed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.</p><p>You wanted to just get going to the second floor and escape your current predicament, but doing so and blatantly ignoring his question would be very insensitive. You doubted he’d mind with the whole dark and mysterious and emotionless thing he had going on, but your heart was meek.</p><p>You wished you weren’t so damn <em>considerate</em>.</p><p>“You’re easy on the eyes,” you spoke softly. “One of the prettiest people I’ve seen.” Then, just because you had to ruin the moment, added, “One look at you and I’m 9 months late.” You thought you were funny. He thought you were odd. He also didn’t understand your commentary.</p><p>Before he could ask you what you meant by that last bit, you grabbed hold of his wrist and led him up the flight of stairs. He took one big stride for each pair of your hurried steps. When you reached the second floor, you all but flew to the wall holding the cause for your night out. “This is it!”</p><p>Now that they were directly in front of you, it was glaringly obvious just how far Illumi’s unfamiliarity with articles of clothing went. These looked <em>nothing</em> like stockings or scarves and whatnot. How did he not know that when he literally dressed himself in a waist trainer each and every day?</p><p>You took in his outfit now that you stood still. Mostly purples with accents of white. You decided that you didn’t want to strangle Gotoh anymore. If being an assassin meant having a flawless sense of fashion at all times, you’d give yourself away in a heartbeat. Too bad you were already pledged to another cause.</p><p>A lilac coloring caught your eye. Courtesy of Illumi following through your wish of shopping, it was only polite to pick a color to match his own.</p><p>That’s what you told yourself. In reality, you just wanted to waltz around town wearing a matching couple’s outfit. But without the couple.</p><p>“Hey let’s go to the changing room. I’ll try on this size, see if it fits.” Once more, you dragged him by the wrist and left him hovering on the other side of the drapes to the changing room you entered. You quickly changed, not wanting Illumi to wait more than necessary, and slid the drapes to the side. You had to bunch up your sweatshirt towards your chest for him to see. “What do you think?”</p><p>His eyes slowly raked up and down your figure. “It fits.”</p><p>Wow. You’d told him he was gorgeous and this was all he could come up with? You promptly slid the drapes shut before his face. Gorgeous or not, you didn’t want to look at it right now. Instead, you looked yourself over in the mirror, circling your hips this way and that. You looked <em>good</em>, the way your waist got cinched almost unnaturally. It felt good.</p><p>You sighed. Then there was the matter that you wanted others to think so as well. Honestly—would it kill him to say something nicer?</p><p>Your hands fell to your sides, and with them your sweatshirt. You knew you shouldn’t let yourself seethe over his inability to provide flattery. For all you knew it could be an inbred trait in his family and it’s not like everyone had an obligation to give praise. Besides, you doubted he’d led a lifestyle where compliments were involved. Like, ever.</p><p>You’d give him the benefit of the doubt. He was searching for words, might’ve just chosen badly. “You’re bad at compliments.”</p><p>“It wasn’t meant to be one.”</p><p>Illumi was kind of funny, wasn’t he? “Are you always like this?”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>The way his blank look paired together with the lack of a joyful tilt to his voice told you that his confusion was genuine. He truly didn’t comprehend that his lack of picking up on social cues was aggravating at best. Nothing you could fault him for, though. It was charming in a way, you supposed. Different.</p><p>“…Nevermind. Could you pick up some matching crop tops and pants for me to try on? We passed those on the first floor.” Might as well complete the look.</p><p>There was no answer but you heard his footsteps growing fainter.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Trying out various types of clothing had awakened a yearning of spending money that laid dormant in you for a long time <strike>because you were broke</strike> because it had been a while since your last trip to a department store. You had a mind to dispose of the price tags but being in the company of someone who might or might not frown upon theft made you hesitant to do so. How nice of him—bringing out the best in you.</p><p>But it was okay. You would just cry a little over how your wallet had ceased to be fat when you got home.</p><p><em>Home. </em>Oh, that’s right.</p><p>Now that the little mission of his was accomplished, with how your arms were carrying a good amount of shopping bags, you would part ways.</p><p>Only, you found that you didn’t want to, which was particularly odd seeing as only an hour prior you had yearned to be back in your bed. You usually had no qualms against being on your own––preferred it, even. It was a given with your occupation; managing days on end by your lonesome and then being summoned for whatever errands that eccentric leader of yours had decided on. Eccentric, not because you had anything against Chrollo—on the contrary, he was incredibly charismatic, not to mention the most outstanding leader you could ask for (admittedly not a good leader in a traditional sense, but for a bunch of powerful, social outcasts previously confined in Meteor City, he was perfect). It was his state of undress that concerned you.</p><p>It served as a distraction and you didn’t know if you wanted him to keep it that way or if you wanted to donate him what money you had left to buy a shirt. There was that one time when you had counted those well-developed muscles covering his abdominal wall in the midst of battle. Yes, very distracting.</p><p><em>Anyway</em>. You shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts.</p><p>The point was that it had been too long since you’d heard from your accomplices. You were well past the point of which one would be considered derived of human contact.</p><p>You wanted to say something before Illumi left, but you weren’t sure what.</p><p>He turned to you in the middle of the street and you realized just how dark it had gotten. The paleness of his skin served a stark contrast against the darkened sky while his eyes and hair seemed to blend in with it.</p><p>“You’ve gotten what you wanted and it’s time for me to leave. I’ve worked up quite an appetite from our time spent together.” He made it sound like you had insisted on ‘getting what you wanted.’ It irked you a little. <em>He</em> had been the one to show up and declare your getting together for a little shopping trip. <em>Deep breaths. Think about your non-existent social life. </em></p><p>You plastered on your best smile. “Then let me thank you for all you’ve done by treating you to dinner.”</p><p>He seemed to mull it over for a second, fingers enclosing his chin. “There is no need for gratitude. I simply did what was promised of me, and dinner will already be prepared for my arrival at home.” A no, then. Your smile fell.</p><p>“How about you walk me home?” you asked quietly, a bit embarrassed to voice a second suggestion just to sate your loneliness. “It would put a nice end to the evening.”</p><p>“Are you incapable of going by yourself?”</p><p>The choice of words sounded very much like a jab, but it was once again the manner in which he spoke that made you unsure if he even realized the negative connotation was there to begin with. Oblivious or not, you were still starting to feel increasingly dejected from his obvious lack of enthusiasm. You could take a hint.</p><p>“No, I can.” A moment went by where you waited for him to interject with something. You weren’t sure what, but it didn’t matter. He remained mute, staring unblinkingly. “I’ll be going then. Have a good one.” You turned to leave, barely putting any distance between him and you before you halted mid-step.</p><p>“You are being pursued.” His eyes portrayed a calculating look when you peaked a glance over your shoulder. Yours narrowed in turn, this being news to you, and it instantly put you on guard. Nen subconsciously spurred into action to coat your exterior from being startled, but it subsided as quickly as it appeared. Having your nen come undone was really careless on your part. A loss of control should never be permissible, no matter how surprised you were. You had felt no presence at all and even now that you were notified, you still felt nothing. You were usually the hunter, not the prey, so had you been growing sloppy after a good amount of time spent under a false sense of security? “That must be why you asked if there was a bounty to your name when seeing me.”</p><p><em>Aha</em>. So you weren’t being pursued. He was simply coming to conclusions on his own again. You visibly deflated, blowing a breath out.</p><p>There he went again, assuming stuff that wasn’t even implied. You didn’t understand how he even came up with that stuff. Perhaps his thought-process different greatly from yours, or perhaps he saw the forlorn look on your face, but nevertheless he now seemed intent on not letting you wander off on your own.</p><p>Although at a price, it seemed. “You know of my occupation, do you not? You need only say the word and have money ready for deposit and I’ll take care of your problem.”</p><p>That was the thing, though. You did not have a stalker and even if you did, you did not have money. Not that you would need help anyway. “You know I’m a member of the Phantom Troupe, right…?”</p><p>“I’m aware.”</p><p>You held back a groan. He was so far proving to be more frustrating to deal with than Hisoka. Good thing you enjoyed turbulent dynamics in relationships the most. Because where’s the fun in vanilla?</p><p>To sum things up, Illumi was proposing to form an assassination contract that he, unbeknownst to him, wouldn’t be able to fulfill. Two options to choose from were presented. Yes or no. You could accept, resulting in a wild goose-chase with an endless amount of dead ends that would waste his time (and who was to say he wouldn’t figure out that there was no target? He would. And you dreaded to think what could happen in such a scenario). You could turn him down, and that would be it—part ways and the possibility of ever meeting again would be low. The latter was the sane option.</p><p>“Where do I sign?” The sane option was also the boring option.</p><p>“Some paperwork is involved, and, of course, terms will be discussed regarding my rates, when the money is to be deposited and consequences regarding either of our failure. Rest assured, I do not fail,” he added the last bit as an afterthought, and maybe as a warning that only you were the plausible one to unsuccessfully comply.</p><p>The notion of discussing terms gave you an idea. Spending a little more time with him was the only thing you truly wanted, and while you admittedly went great lengths to get your wish fulfilled, you could still realize the imminent danger a seemingly careless contract could bring about. Unforeseen circumstances could present themselves, such as someone formerly not in the picture starting to trail you while the contract was in work. At least you hadn’t been so careless as to pose as a corpse following the events of the underground auction, meaning that no picture of you was floating around to tie you to the organization that was on many vengeful people’s sights, but you couldn’t be too careful.</p><p>“I have quite a proposal but it’s quite unorthodox for assassination work, if you’ll hear me out?” He inclined his head, prompting you to continue. “You just walk with me to my home, and if you during that trek detect a presence meaning me harm, dispose of them and you’ll have your money. Sound fair?”</p><p>“That seems awfully insufficient for you if they do not show themselves, but if it is your will, then so be it.”</p><p>For the first time in the evening spent alongside him, you saw his brows furrow a fraction of a second before they relaxed, and you almost thought you had imagined it but confusion was still present on his face clear as day. No doubt he was thinking of how insufficient such an agreement was, particularly on your end as it wouldn’t guarantee termination of your hypothetical stalker.</p><p>You took the discussion further by an empty table outside a café where you signed a contract he had whipped (conjured?) out from seemingly nowhere. The poor waitress that had come to fetch your order was eventually shooed away by Illumi’s insistence on staying without ordering. A comedic sight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to snicker for by the end of it your head was filled to the brim with a sense of foreboding from all sorts of things that could go wrong. After all, Murphy’s law dictated that if anything can go wrong, it will go wrong.</p><p>Not to mention the hefty fee you would owe, should you somehow gain a stalker in the span of twenty minutes. A fee that, by the way, was literally millions of times more than you currently <strike>and ever had</strike> owned. Illumi’s chance of fulfilling the contract should be close to zero, but knowing your shit luck, the odds might as well be 100%.</p><p>Now walking together on the sidewalk, you were questioning yourself in an exponentially increasing frequency. Why were you doing this again? The situation you’d gotten yourself in wasn’t even high-risk, high-reward. The ‘reward’ if you could even call it that, was a twenty minute walk back to your apartment with company that wasn’t that much of a company. You really wished you had a car, because this was just pitiful. At least a car would have a radio which you could bob your head along to music. Not a single thing came to mind when you thought of conversating with Illumi. You barely knew a thing about the man, and accordingly knew of nothing you had in common. Small talk was not your forté and you were by no means a people person. At least when it came to new ones. The old ones, you knew how to annoy, your favorite being Hisoka.</p><p>Hisoka.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Oh, but there <em>was</em> something you saw eye-to-eye.</p><p>You almost stopped in your tracks at the newly found revelation.</p><p>Any previous inkling of agitation you had, dissipated. With how almost domestic the night had been, you convinced yourself that you enjoyed his presence. It was, much to your surprise, a welcome diversion from how boring your weeks had been.</p><p>“To be honest, I didn’t think I would, but…I really enjoyed spending time with you. No wonder Hisoka sees you as a dear friend. How is he, by the way?”</p><p>The shift in atmosphere happened so suddenly that you were sure your heart would wrench itself out of your sternum. You’d said something you shouldn’t have, hadn’t you? Illumi’s aura had turned grim, reflecting a turmoil from within its encasing. Had you been unaccustomed to such a feeling, you could easily see how anyone would be constricted by it as if held by an invisible force.</p><p>“Assassins do not have <strong>friends</strong>.” <strike>What a drama queen.</strike></p><p>Why was is that whenever you voiced a friendship status, every person would grow defensive with you? Hisoka would without fail evade the subject or speak in quotes about friendship. Feitan would grumble under his breath about breaking every bone in your body and have you fix yourself so that he could resume breaking them. Shizuku didn’t even remember the pledge you made with her. And now, Illumi cowered under some code of assassins to refrain from admitting that he had a friend. You totally got it, though. He had to maintain an image. Whatever.</p><p>“Then explain to me the matching crop tops?”</p><p>His brows furrowed, confused as to why their attire was brought up. “It is coincidental.”</p><p>“If you say so.”</p><p>He hesitated for a moment, contemplating if he should add something, and for a moment you thought he would, but his little hissy-fit ended with the diminishing of his aura.</p><p>From the mere hour or two you had spent with Illumi, you grasped a pattern in which the conversation flowed. He said nothing unless you spoke first, but in the midst of the exchanging of words, he could ask you to elaborate if his curiosity was peaked. In that sense, he was a simple creature even if he simultaneously was anything but.</p><p>“I’m glad the weather has been so agreeable tonight,” you mused after a while, intent on not walking in silence all the way home. “It’s very pleasant to be walking alongside you like this. I only wish it was under different circumstances…” you trailed off.</p><p>“Different circumstances?” There it was—the yearning to sate a curious mind.</p><p>You refrained from providing him a straight answer, much rather wanting to hear what he had to say. You had an inkling of suspicion… “Tell me, do you ever act upon your own desires? I feel like today could be considered as such, but it was still done under the premise of a promise.”</p><p>“Were I to feel a strong sense of longing for something, I would stray from the path of assassin. Incorporating one’s feelings even outside… ‘business hours’ makes for an inadequate assassin,” he answered without sparing even a second to think it through, convinced of what had been jammed into his person, maybe since even before being able to walk upright. The words were drilled into his brain like an automated message whenever prompted for.</p><p>It struck you as somewhat sad.</p><p>You obviously didn’t know even a fraction of his life-story but you doubted his personality was the product of a loving upbringing.</p><p>You hummed but decided not to dwell further on it. It was none of your business anyway.</p><p>The remainder of the walk was done in silence but this time, you didn’t mind. In the silence there was room to berate yourself on irrationality. Writing a damn contract had been stupid on your part as it had only been done to sate a little loneliness and the person, unbeknownst to him, providing you company wasn’t much of a conversationalist in the first place.</p><p>You took a moment to glance to your left. Illumi was staring straight ahead while walking with such an impeccable posture that made you very aware of how you most likely resembled a vulture from the side. Your back straightened at that thought.</p><p>The man at your side seemed detached from his surroundings which seemed awfully uncharacteristic from one of his profession, but you were pretty certain that he would be able to sense any irregularities of nen in the vicinity.</p><p>In fiction, impassive villains doing dirty deeds were always the coolest. Maybe you should take notes. You briefly wondered what criminal image you projected. Were you one of the cool ones, or one of the losers? You really hoped you were one of the cool ones. Illumi didn’t seem to mind your presence, and cool always hung out with cool, right?</p><p>
  <em>Right?</em>
</p><p>Then again, Hisoka, one of the cool ones, didn’t seem to want to see you again. You deflated when that crossed your mind.</p><p>What if you <em>were</em> one of the losers?</p><p>Had you been in the confinement of your blankets, you would have cringed and maybe uglycried yourself to sleep or whatever it was that broken-hearted girls did in bed.</p><p>Although, in truth it was impossible to tell since your identity as one of the Phantom Troupe wasn’t public knowledge. Most had unfavorable opinions on them, sure, but you could definitely pinpoint which ones you liked and didn’t like out of the members. Proclaiming yourself as one of the cool ones just screamed ‘egocentric,’ and that wouldn’t do. No, that wouldn’t do at all.</p><p>The view of your apartment building almost surprised you, having walked on autopilot without much thought. “Oh. We’re here.” You stopped a short distance from the doorway entry. “No stalker tonight, haha,” you added humorlessly, relieved but the earlier tension prevented you from finding real humor in it.</p><p>Illumi glanced down to you, then inclined his head towards the shrubs lining the outer walls. For a moment you thought nothing of it, brushing it off as a normal instance considering his eccentric persona, but then you <em>felt</em> whomever he was looking towards, and your heart had never beaten so hard or fast in your life.</p><p>Did you run for it?</p><p>Fall to your knees and beg?</p><p>Present your neck and resign yourself to your fate, or fight back?</p><p>In the midst of your bodily functions going haywire, you heard a very smug, a very familiar voice call out—</p><p>“You wound me. Going out on a date without even inviting me, hmm?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. New × Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Illumi, you killed him.”</p><p>“…You were pulling it too hard.”</p><p>“That’s what he said,” you snorted despite the solemn moment of mourning.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Uhh—nevermind.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Could the timing be any worse?</p><p>Seriously, could it?</p><p>You watched the owner of the voice, almost equally as tall as the man beside you, sashay over to you with the corners of his lips curled upward in amusement.</p><p>No, you decided. It could not.</p><p>Had the circumstances been normal, you would run up to Hisoka and cling to his frame like a koala because for weeks now you had wailed in self-pity over your partner in crime abandoning you and when no one saw, attempted to bring him back to your side by performing questionable summoning rituals, ones that never worked.</p><p>And now, here he was in front of you on his own accord, looking as put-together as ever.</p><p>But you really didn’t want him here right now.</p><p>You turned to Illumi so fast your head could’ve suffered a whiplash injury. “Hisoka isn’t my stalker,” you desperately tried to reassure, because you did not want a bloodbath just outside your apartment building, could not <em>afford</em> to explain to the landlord that it was nothing to worry about only to be thrown out without notice and be forced to look for a new place.</p><p>You didn’t want a bloodbath anywhere near you, period.</p><p>The man in question arched a brow. “What ever do you mean, darling? I had to dig around to get information of your whereabouts.”</p><p>From beside Illumi, you grit your teeth and shook your head in quick succession, trying to telepathically send Hisoka the message ‘<em>no, just agree with me</em>.’</p><p>But alas, Hisoka was no telepath. And as always, he did the opposite of your wishes.</p><p>“You’ve been away all day,” he sighed dramatically. “I had to wait by your home for <em>hours</em>.”</p><p>
  <em>That’s not creepy at all.</em>
</p><p>You were used it though, even participated in such macabre behavior sometimes. It came with the job.</p><p>Illumi’s reaction to <strike>the third wheel</strike> Hisoka’s appearance was as was typical for him. His carefully neutral expression betrayed no cognitive processes he might’ve had.</p><p>“You said he wasn’t your stalker?”</p><p>You frantically shook your head no again.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I <em>swea</em>—huh?” Okay? That’s it? You had actually expected him not to believe you, especially after Hisoka seemingly tried to play into the role as stalker.</p><p>“The contract will be terminated. Bye.”</p><p>You frowned a little at his abruptness, but nonetheless muttered a “bye..?” as he turned to walk off. And you let him, content on the company he had provided and relieved beyond measure that you didn’t need to pay him up.</p><p>The uninvited menace behind you didn’t seem satisfied, though. He called to the retreating back, “Oh? Not even a kiss goodbye after taking the lady out?”</p><p>You glared at Hisoka, willing him to stop with this nonsense, and then turned to Illumi to dismiss the proposal.</p><p>He was watching you expectantly.</p><p>You almost had a breakdown right then and there.</p><p>“No!” you yelled, exasperated, slapping a hand to your mouth to serve as protection. “No kiss!” What was this—a kindergarten? You couldn’t for the life of you comprehend why Hisoka was spurring him on or why Illumi was actually listening to him.</p><p><em>Not friends, my ass</em>, you thought bitterly. The two were too familiar and laidback in one another’s presence not to be considered such.</p><p>“Bye,” you repeated in the same abruptness as Illumi had and waved a hand in front of his face, willing him to go away. You had some catching up to do with your favorite clown.</p><p>“Why not stay for some beverage to warm up? Her treat, of course.”</p><p>You could fucking kill Hisoka.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>That’s how you found yourself drinking tea in your cramped apartment, sitting between two grown men on an even more cramped couch.</p><p>The sight was comical, but you found no humor in the situation.</p><p>Arnold 3.0 was safely clutched in your arms after a mishap in which Hisoka brushed past the plant on the windowsill overlooking the city and almost caused him to crash to the floor, had you not scooped him up just in time.</p><p>As much as you wanted an actual animal, perhaps it was a good thing that right now Arnold was a bamboo plant, because otherwise his airways would’ve been constricted from how tight you were holding onto him.</p><p>“When are you going to reveal what’s in the bags?”</p><p>You grumbled out an angry, “never.” You were penniless and the two had helped themselves to some servings of whatever had been in your pantry before settling down on the couch, not being mindful at all of your personal space. Your pantry hadn’t been filled with much to begin with, and now it was emptier—you had heard them munching away on something in the kitchen while you were sulking in the living room before they joined with tea prepared.</p><p>At least <em>they</em> had made the tea.</p><p>While normally you would be hospitable and accommodating, now you were just mad. If they so much as breathed too loudly, you might’ve lashed out.</p><p>You didn’t even have a clear answer as to why you felt the way you did.</p><p>Maybe because Hisoka had invited a killer assassin into your home without your permission, all the while inviting himself too. It wasn’t unusual for him to help himself to a welcome where there was none.</p><p>Honestly, you should probably be happy with the turn of events. You had wanted company, after all. But now you didn’t have the usual one or two killers in your home. Now you had <em>three</em>. Two was more than enough, thank you very much. Did they think your home was a headquarters?</p><p>“Come now, you’re always so eager to update me on every little thing going on in your mundane life.” You didn’t know how one could regard your life as mundane, but in comparison to his, you supposed it could be considered as such.</p><p>When you didn’t move a muscle, he helped himself to rummage through one of the bag’s contents.</p><p>And found the many waist trainers.</p><p>“I know you’ve taken a liking to me but isn’t this a little much?” he said as if his full-time job wasn’t to pursue literal children.</p><p>“I’m trying to look like Illumi,” you half-lied. You were trying to look like both.</p><p>“Like Illumi,” he repeated.</p><p>“Are you seeing heels anywhere?” you kept playing into the lie. While, yes, their style was similar, there were also certain pieces that differed.</p><p>His eyes zeroed in on you, narrowing, “You’ve told me you like my impeccable sense of fashion.” Was that a pout?</p><p>“You jealous or something?” It was only meant as a jab, nothing serious, but when he refrained from answering and kept his gaze going to and fro the fabric in his hands to the one cladding his upper body as if assessing their similarities, you knew you’d hit home.</p><p>“You are!” Your head was thrown back as you laughed, one hand repeatedly slapping Illumi’s forearm as if saying <em>are you seeing this shit</em>?</p><p>The revelation had your mood take a complete u-turn. The laughter died down but your grin stayed, “Someone like me,” <em>jaw-droppingly gorgeous, show-stoppingly charming</em>, “could never fill your shoes, ahem—heels. There can only be one you, Hisoka.”</p><p>“Same thing could be said about him,” he threw a glance to Illumi sitting impassively by the twin armrest. “But I get your point,” he purred and bunched up your new clothes into the plastic. Ever the gentleman.</p><p>You scoffed and gained Illumi’s attention by gently prying his fingers open and placing Arnold into them. “I am a mom, you are now a dad. This is our child. Protect Arnold with your life,” you instructed because you did not trust Hisoka to be trusted with such a grand responsibility.</p><p>“Who is Arnold?”</p><p>For someone so calculating, he could be incredibly <em>oblivious</em> sometimes.</p><p>“My plant’s name is Arnold,” you deadpanned.</p><p>You grabbed the bag in Hisoka’s clawed hands and the other bags from the floor with the intention of neatly folding and organizing the clothes into your wardrobe before they had a chance of creasing too much. You hated <strike>all household work</strike> ironing with a passion and would go great lengths to prevent one session of it, even risk vandalism to your home by leaving the two man-children unattended.</p><p>A finger was pointed to Illumi. “Remember, with your <em>life</em>,” you whispered dramatically while walking away backwards, wondering if that was something he would demand a signed contract to fulfill.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>When you trudged your way back to the living room, you were only greeted by one back of a head on the couch.</p><p>“Where’s Hisoka?”</p><p>“He was on his way out.”</p><p>Oh no, he didn’t.</p><p>Not again.</p><p>You lunged for the hallway, speed rivaling that of Usain Bolt to catch the menace clown before he left for a pack of cigarettes or a carton of milk.</p><p>Thankfully, he hadn’t vanished into thin air this time. He was leaning against the wall beside the door, waiting.</p><p>This time you did cling to him like a koala, ranting about him needing to visit from now on <em>or else</em>, followed by empty threats. He hadn’t disclosed why he didn’t text or visit sooner, but the important thing was that he had. You’d rather see him later than never.</p><p>You didn’t know of the reason he wished to leave after such a short and concise meeting, but you weren’t one to keep him from going somewhere; knew it was futile to try convince him otherwise.</p><p>Your conjoined limbs unlatched once you deemed your ceaseless chatter finished, putting one foot, then two, on the ground. Then you punched him, hard you could, on the arm <strike>which, admittedly, didn’t pack an impressive amount of strength</strike>. “That’s for trying to lead Illumi on. We’re not dating, you baboon. Don’t give him any ideas.”</p><p>“I think it’s too late for that,” he said with the same glint in his eyes you’d seen when he was toying with someone.</p><p>You didn’t know what he meant by that.</p><p>But you would, in due time.</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>When you trudged back to your living room, <em>again</em>, you half expected the last occupant on the couch to be gone.</p><p>Much to your surprise, he sat as though he hadn’t moved a muscle, which, when you thought about it, was probably the case.</p><p>“Thank you for keeping him safe for me,” you said while reaching for Arnold.</p><p>You grabbed the vase.</p><p>His steel-like grip remained constant.</p><p>“Let. Go.” You pulled towards you again to no avail.</p><p>“I’m protecting it.”</p><p>“<em>Him</em>. And yes, by <em>my</em> orders. I now revoke those orders.” He still didn’t let go. “Give me!”</p><p>The following minute or so was spent in a game of tug-of-war and you were really embarrassed to say that by the end of it, you were starting to pant from how much you were tugging, even putting your body’s weight into it.</p><p>“Why are you like this!?” with one last outraged cry, Arnold was at last, finally, yanked from his grasp.</p><p>The following relief didn’t last long.</p><p>You watched in slow motion as the vase fell from yours and Illumi’s intertwined fingers. In just the span of a second you felt relief, realization, horror and torment. In exactly that order.</p><p>He was looking down at the shattered glass with surprise evident on his face—you couldn’t understand why, this was all <em>his</em> doing.</p><p>You pressed the heels of your palms to your eyelids.</p><p>You would have to shop for an Arnold 4.0 now. It had been going so well with his predecessor, and now the progress had regressed to step one all over again.</p><p>“Illumi, you killed him.”</p><p>“…You were pulling it too hard.”</p><p>“That’s what he said,” you snorted despite the solemn moment of mourning.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Uhh—nevermind.” You were not about to explain to him the world of sexual innuendos. You doubted he would understand even if you did.</p><p>“It doesn’t look dead,” he said while picking the bamboo plant off the floor, turning it this way and that.</p><p>He wasn’t wrong. Beside a few cuts to the stem, Arnold 3.0 had only taken a slight tumble to the floor and was, in fact, not dead as you made him out to be, but the sole purpose of you owning a plant was to see if you could become a responsible pet owner. Had Arnold been a hamster, he would have possibly broken his back from the fall or bled to death from shards of glass. That wasn’t to say hamsters were kept in vases, but…</p><p>“He broke his back. He’s as good as dead.”</p><p>“It doesn’t hav—“</p><p>“Shhh,” you brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I need a new Arnold.”</p><p>His lips moved against your index finger. “You have a balcony, do you not? I heard you can grow plants in soil when given water and exposed to sunlight.”</p><p>He said that as if it wasn’t common knowledge.</p><p>Not a bad idea, though. Especially since you didn’t have the money to buy a new experiment. This would do.</p><p>“You ever planted something before?”</p><p>He shook his head no.</p><p>“Then this’ll be your first. Come on.”</p><p>.</p><p>.</p><p>Turns out you didn’t have enough stuff to plant a new successor to the Arnold-line. You managed to make do, though, with the help of 3.0’s murderer. Instead of a flower pot, a saucepan was grabbed from the kitchen, and for the soil you had Illumi dig for some.</p><p>You made a mental note to never ask that of him, ever again.</p><p>Because his way of digging was so eccentric your mind projected an image of a ground hog in his stead, shoveling dirt out of the way with the claws he had mysteriously grown out.</p><p>When he looked up towards the balcony for your approval, you just barely managed to throw him a thumbs up, then a quick hither-motion so that he would come up before any of your neighbors saw him and mistook him for a person having escaped the psychiatric ward.</p><p>And later, once the stalk was cut from the mother plant and pushed into the soil, the sensation in your chest felt marvelous. Arnold 4.0, while not yet visible underneath the soil-filled saucepan, had been a product of yours and Illumi’s teamwork.</p><p>“Wow.” Your were grappling for purchase at his toned bicep, concentrating <em>very hard</em> not to think about the fabric-clad firmness underneath your fingertips, to instead focus on the task at hand, “We just created a baby.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m on tumblr under the same username, nostaren, in case anyone wants to chat or ask how an upcoming chapter’s progress is going!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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